


Seeing is believing

by lornemalvo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, and for a prompt, thank you for reading, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornemalvo/pseuds/lornemalvo
Summary: Crowley sees the world like a snake does. By smell and heat primarily, movement and shapes secondary. He’s never actually seen Aziraphales face in a normal way, so with a small miracle, Aziraphale allows him to have normal vision as well. And Crowley can’t stop staring at him.Also he hates the sun. Way too bright.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i took these two prompts and put them together. it was a lot of fun to write this.
> 
> this hasn't been proofread but please god leave comments. not sure about how i write these boys yet, and it helps me a lot to get motivation to write more for you!!
> 
> my tumblr is turingstea, leave prompts for me here or there!
> 
> prompt: Crowley sees the world like a snake does. By smell and heat primarily, movement and shapes secondary. He’s never actually seen Aziraphales face in a normal way, so with a small miracle, Aziraphale allows him to have normal vision as well. And Crowley can’t stop staring at him.
> 
> Also he hates the sun. Way too bright. 
> 
> Crowley has scars from falling from heaven into a pit of boiling sulfur.

—

Crowley never was a big fan of how his skin felt in human form. It was ragged, used, barely worth anyone sparing a glance at. Everything was better when he was an angel, before he fell into a pool of literal fucking radioactive waste. Well, not everything. Being a demon was easier, second nature almost, and it gave him an actual purpose rather than just pulling pranks on other angels. But it was easy to get along with everyone else. No one giving him a second glance about why he was wearing long sleeves and pants in the summer time, no questioning looks when he recoiled at someones touch.

The eyes were alright. Another thing to just get used to, but easier to hide. He liked the way the pupils dilated and how much easier it was to take note of things in his peripheral vision, the actual seeing is what was harder. Not many colors existed for him outside of the heat coming off of an object or living things. Black was the color of choice, always. No surprises. Even angels and demons gave off heat, black was empty and comfortable.

Smelling was absolutely decadent. Everything was sharp and clear. He could tell when Aziraphale was upstairs in the bookstore rather than in his office, simply by walking in and inhaling. Food tasted better, the few times that his angel made him eat. Alcohol was one of his favorite new-ish discoveries. Of course it was delicious before, but he could tell what type of cork was used. When it was bottled. Sometimes, very rarely, he could even tell where it was corked. 

He adjusted his shirt in the mirror, grimacing at where he could see the scarred flesh on his wrist, and buttoned his cuffs. Black shirt, black pants, black leather jacket. Comfortable. Comfortable enough for a drink with a friend.

— 

The bookshop was always a comfort, too. Nothing ever changed too much, Aziraphale hardly had any customers so the books didn't move. The mess was consistent. Papers strewn about and boxes half opened on and under tables. Chairs covered in old parchment and twine from even older packages that Aziraphale had opened years ago. 

Zira was upstairs, the smell was distant. Probably reorganizing older books after a shipment of even older ones came in. Fucks sake, how many books did one man have to own? He rolled his eyes and found his way to the staircase, trailing his fingers up the banister while he walked up. Third shelf on the left side, probably on a step stool considering the cologne he wore was floating above Crowleys head. Turning on his heel, he poked his head around the shelf in question, and smiled when he was the usual red heatwaves of his best friend.

“Angel.”

“Crowley! What a pleasant surprise.” Aziraphale pushed one of the books back into place on the shelf and took a step down from the stool he was on. “Come for a book?”

“Mm. No. You know I don't read. Tempting you to dinner is the main point. It is Thursday.” The unspoken ‘We have dinner every Thursday together at dinner’ hung in the air.

“Right! Well, what is it to be for today?”

“Few bottles of wine, maybe ordering in some Italian. Not feeling like going out tonight.”

“Wonderful.”

—

Two hours later, the foyer was littered with take out boxes and empty bottles of wine, the dregs having sloshed out onto the rug and papers under the boxes and staining them red. Aziraphale was sitting across from him in a plush red chair, legs uncrossed and splayed out, on foot sitting in the stain of the wine. His heat had changed, his whole face was red, arms and legs a cooler orange. Angel was drunk, the blood in his body had moved to his torso, his organs working hard to pump blood and process the alcohol.

“My face is burning hot, is this what your home office feels like?” 

Crowley turned his head to look at him, pulling the sunglasses down just slightly to look over at his partner.

“Yeah. You've always done that, angel. Can’t handle the red wine you stole to drink.”

“You’ve always worn sunglasses. Well— Since they came around you have.”

“Weird point to make, but I guess we’re on that topic now. Sunglasses are nice. The sun is painful, hurts my fuckin’ eyes.”

Aziraphale hiccuped.

“It hurts everyones eyes, Crowley.”

Shit. It had never occurred to him that he hadn't told Aziraphale about his hatred of the sun. Never told anyone, really. People just saw him in sunglasses and accepted that he was a freak walking the streets. He paused and licked his lips, tipping his head back on the chair.

“No, angel. My eyes are shit. Can’t see shit, can’t look at bright shit. You know, the usual for a nocturnal slash diurnal animal. Like a snake.” Crowley wiped his hand over his forehead and pulled the sunglasses off, tossing them to the side. Probably in a wine spill.

“Really? I-I suppose that does make sense. I had never really taken it into account before. Your pupils dilate, though, right?”

“Well, your pupils can dilate up to a whatever percentage,” Crowley waved a hand in the air, “When you're looking at someone or something you love, so why don't you come take a peek?”

Aziraphale laughed and cocked his head to the side, grinning over at him.

“You don't mean that.”

“You don't know. I could. You never listen to me.”

“How do you see things?”

Another topic that Crowley had never thought about. The thought about telling someone almost made him uncomfortable, and he couldn't quite place why. It occured to him that he never talked about when he fell. Fell straight into literal acid that burned his skin, his face, his fucking eyes. Turned him into the halfbreed demon snake he was.

The silence was obviously making Zira uncomfortable, he could smell how much he was shifting in the seat by how the waves of cologne were hitting him.

“Heat signatures. Red and yellow and orange. Blue when its nice and cold. Everything else is black and white. You're currently red and orange. Some yellow.”

“So— You've not seen anything since the fall?”

“No.”

Crowley grabbed his wine glass, snapping his fingers so that the bottle next to Zira was in his hands, and filled his glass. Silence hung in the air again while he drank and refilled his glass. 

“But your pupils dilate. And-and that should help with the sun.”

“Gods sake, angel. Your eyes are different than mine. It’s not that simple.” He took another drink. “And I don't think I want to talk about this anymore.”

“But it’s important. Is that why you're always wearing black? Since you cant see the color?”

“Fucks sake. Yes. I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“Well-Well I'm just wondering. Ive had wine and broke bread with you so many times before this and I'm just not sure I want this conversation to end. I don't know hardly anything about you, Crowley.” Aziraphale took the bottle back. “We have known each other for so many years and have spent that time mostly together, and you've never once talked about yourself.”

That was true. Crowley didn't like talking about himself. The alcohol was getting to his system and his brain, bringing his defenses down.

“You want to know about my life, Zira? About everything?”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, giving a short nod just a few seconds later.

“Alright.”

Crowley stood, leaning over him and taking the bottle back in hand to take a long drink.

“Hung around the wrong people. Fell right into a pool and sulfur, burned my skin so bad I look like a golden raisin that was left too long in the sun. They fixed me up by making me partially a snake, hence the eyes and wily personality. Haven't seen shit since I was raving up in heaven with y’all, theres the reason for the black.” He gestured to his outfit. “My life is shit. I take care of my plants better than I take care of myself, and thats fucking saying something. Can’t do fucking shit about my eyes because you of all people know we cant do anything to our bodies without prior fucking permission. And thats it. Thats my life. You happy?”

Aziraphale was obviously not happy. His face was scrunched just slightly and he had crossed his legs, the glass of wine was held close to his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

The sight of the angel cowering in the seat made Crowley cringe and almost regret saying what he had.

“No. Sorry. My bad. Shouldn't have burst like that. I don't talk about it for a reason.”

Crowley sat back across from angel, kicking the sunglasses he had thrown earlier across the room. 

“You miss your sight?”

“Every fucking day. I haven't seen your face in years. I mean— Your true face. Just memories at this point.”

“You would like to see?”

Crowley didn't answer, pursing his lips instead and staring over at his angel. Aziraphale stood shakily, the wine had taken its effect, and closed the distance between them. He raised a hand and rest it gently on Crowleys face, just to the side of his right eye.

“But you want to see?”

The second time Aziraphale said it almost cemented it in his mind. The angels red figure in front of him, the colors changing as he shifted from leg to leg. Crowley wanted to see him, the frilly suits he wore, his soft and round face. Slight freckles on his nose were almost a distant memory at this point. Fuck, he was whipped.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

The hand resting on his face brushed over his lids, and the angel mumbled something about sight. Crowley could almost feel his bones creak as the energy pulsed through him, warm and welcoming, just like everything Aziraphale embodied. Zira took a step back, accidentally stepping on the sunglasses strewn on the floor, cheap plastic crunching under his heel.

More silence hung heavy in the air while Crowley sat with his eyes squeezed shut. His heart rate had increased tenfold almost, the thought of actually seeing something that wasn't a shade of red or black and white was frightening.

“You could look.”

“I know that, angel. Just— give me a damn minute.”

Crowley inhaled sharply and cracked an eye. The sight of greens and blues from the carpet flooded him. He could see the deep red stain muddling the colors, the wash of brown papers strewn across the floor. Brown shoes, cream pants, cream vest, all leading up to Aziraphale face. Round and soft and fucking gorgeous. He shot up, almost slamming into Zira when he did, laughing wildly. His hands went up to the other face instantly, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks.

The skin under his fingers was soft, and he could see every wrinkle and pore. All the creases from how much Aziraphale laughed, every pocket where the oil from his corporeal form had caused a blemish. Rosy pink lips and beautiful ivory teeth that were currently grinning under his touch.

“Is that good?”

“Bless it, Zira, so fucking good. Are my eyes the same? The snake eyes add to the look. No need for sunglasses, either.” He gestured towards the pitiful remains of plastic on the rug.

Aziraphale laughed and ducked his head just slightly. His hair was beautiful, how did Crowley never notice the curl pattern before? 

“We could go see the ducks now. I never knew you couldn't view them in their full capacity.” HIs head lifted slightly to make eye contact. “Your eyes are the same. The cones are different. I’m not quite sure what will happen if you're a snake again.”

“Or we could stay here. Sit together. Drink more.” Crowley pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “We’ll see what happens the next time I have a shed. Peel my skin off.”

“You shed, too?”

“Another topic, angel.”

Crowley smiled at him, pressing their lips together and pulling him in by the waist. It was soft, slow, their lips moving together in sync like they always had. Aziraphale was the first to pull away, tugging Crowley with him down onto the couch. 

“You really shed?”

“Ye-ep. Whenever I go missing for a few weeks at a time, assume that I'm sloughing off my dead skin cells. Maybe jerking off to your fucking gorgeous face.”

Zira laughed, his lips stretching and turning a baby pink.

Crowley wouldn't forget that sight for the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> was too excited to write this. enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! got the motivation while very wine drunk to write this. it was read over once by drunk me, so all typos are mine. 
> 
> like i said-- please GOD leave comments and give me the validation to continue to write for you guys. i really do love it, but writers are insecure.
> 
> changed the rating for a reason, its a small bit at the end.
> 
> my tumblr is turingstea!!

Seeing really was believing, as Crowley had discovered. Plants were beautiful shades of green and blue, sometimes pink. When he had finally gotten home from the bookstore, there were hours spent pouring over his plants. Not necessarily speaking or even yelling at them, just holding the leaves and tracing the veins with his thumbs. They reminded him of Aziraphales face, so much life and care in each spot on his skin, on each line of every leaf. The plants would shake whenever he got close, something he would have to work on, but he was content to silently watch. 

He liked the shades of grey throughout the apartment, he thought as he ran his hand along the wall leading to his bedroom. But he could see a whole range of colors now, maybe there was potential for some flowering trees or ivy. Something with pink buds and red veins. A carnivorous plant, even. Could be nice.

That night had ended so unexpectedly, Crowley was still reeling from it. Telling Aziraphale all those things, Aziraphale fixing his sight and letting him rest his head in his lap to look up at the multitudes of different colored book covers and laughing every time Crowley gasped. Leaving was one of the worst parts, saying goodbye and climbing back into his car after snapping the boot that was locked onto the wheel. Paying for parking was one of his worst ideas, humans had taken it too far. Maybe he could start moving his belongings into Zira’s flat one by one, the angel probably wouldn't notice. He should start that sometime.

Fuck— He really had just told Aziraphale everything. Everything about the fall. The burns, the eyes, the shedding. Crowley fell into the bed and rubbed his face, groaning softly. Shedding was coming up soon, there was a pink hi-lighter scribble on one of the days on his calendar hung across from his bed. He felt somewhat like a human tracking their periods when he circled the dates every six months. When he was younger he shed more often, it had slowed to twice a year in the last hundred, a thankful thing he supposed.

There were two weeks until the shed.

— 

Aziraphale had noticed the differences a week later. The looser clothes, wearing older boots that were broken in versus the new ones Crowley liked to buy every few months. He was scratching at his skin under the sleeves of his jacket, oh-so carefully making sure that none of the skin above his wrists ended up exposed. The skin that he could see was excruciatingly pale, the veins in between his fingers on his hands were like someone had traced them with an ink pen. It looked like the thin tissue paper he sometimes wrapped books in.

Zira thought about that constantly. Crowleys skin. He had never really taken into account that demons were physically punished when they fell, though it did make sense. The ones he had seen besides Crowley were brutally scarred or disfigured. It was foolish of him to not ever consider that his partner had simply strolled down, like he said, and miss the torturing bit. Throughout the years, looking back, Crowley had only worn long sleeves with pants, or robes to his wrists and ankles. Collars and sweatshirts (when he was casual), always went to his collarbone. Zira had mostly compared it to the demons own style, but even Aziraphale liked a short sleeved linen shirt every once in a while. Even in Rome with Crowley— long sleeves, when he was in short sleeves. He was foolish to have forgotten it.

Currently, Crowley was leaning against one of the benches they liked to meet on, tossing watermelon chunks into the water. Years ago, Aziraphale had suggested bringing bread with them. That had sent Crowley into an hour long yelling session about how unhealthy that was for aquatic creatures. They had started bringing watermelon, and Aziraphale hadn't mentioned it since. He has never known how passionate the demon was about life, though it made sense after his tirades of ducks and how water slide off of them, or how they had ears. Another foolish point of Aziraphales.

He had started wearing his sunglasses again, somewhat of a surprise to the angel. Crowley had begun looking at the world like a child, staring into storefronts and ordering three different types of ice creams from carts. They had started up watching Netflix together, though mostly cooking shows. It was the first time that the television in Aziraphale’s flat had been used. Crowley always picked cooking shows, the ingredients blending together was something he loved to see, to almost smell. Occasionally they would make the recipes that he particularly liked, but that was a story for another time.

“Say, Crowley?” The man in question glanced over at him.

“Yeah.”

“Your’e wearing sunglasses again. Just wondering why, perhaps…?”

Crowley tossed the last piece of melon into the water, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“The shed. I give it another week, then I’ll go on vacation. Remember six months ago when I ‘went on vacation’ to the home office? Shedding. Promise you if i took these glasses off you wouldn't like it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Aziraphale was sure he had a book on snakes back at the shop. For now, he had a bag of watermelon leaking in his pocket that he was sure Crowley would want.

—

_“You will be able to recognize when your snake begins to shed by three main markers. First, the stomach will begin to turn pale and pink, then the skin of the snake will begin to get significantly duller, and finally, the eyes of the snake will become milky and appear opaque. This last stage is called "being in blue". Eventually the eyes will clear up and within the next 36 hours you can expect your snake to shed.”_

 

So thats what he meant about not taking off the sunglasses. Interesting. It was surprising when Crowleys eyes stayed the same after the small miracle he had made, but he was wondering about the state of his them currently, The book gave a nice image of a ball python with film covered eyes, but picturing Crowley like that was almost… Sweet?

Regardless, the symptoms were all there. Crowley was pale, some pink tinges on his cheeks, and though his eyes were covered, Aziraphale assumed they were white underneath the thick lenses. If only Crowley didn't wear those glasses that had the blockers on the side. Though he did say he was going to shed in a week, but if his eyes were already white then that meant it was coming soon. 

_“Should your snake shed incompletely, soak the snake for two hours in shallow water. Afterwards, the remaining skin should come off easily.”_

Ah. Lord. He wanted to help Crowley through the shed, but they hadn't seen each other that vulnerable yet. It had only been six thousand years. That made him laugh and wipe his eyes. Only six thousand years. Gods sake, six thousand. So many years of denying what was happening between them, and here they were. Crowley most likely at home somewhere, maybe tending to his plants, and Aziraphale was sat reading books about snakes. It would probably be best to call him at this point, just to check in.

_“It is always important to check the snake after it has shed to ensure that there is no skin remaining on the tip of its tail, and that the eye caps have been completely removed.”_

That was his real cue to call the demon. Eye caps? Did he really get eye caps that fell off? Good heavens. He dialed Crowleys number after shutting the book and placing it aside, hoping to all that he wouldn't just send him to voicemail like he usually did. The click of the receiver being picked up made him sigh in relief.

“Yellow? Zira?” His voice was raspy, almost like he had just woken up.

“Crowley! Yes! Well, I-I was just calling because I've been reading up on a book about ball pythons and their care, by the way you should be getting more protein in your diet, and I was wondering if, well, you wanted me to perhaps help you with a shed?”

“You what? You’ve been readin’ about snakes? To see if you could help me peel off my skin and sponge bath me?” Crowley laughed under his breath, Aziraphale could picture him rubbing his temples right now. He was, unseen to the angel. "So sweet, angel. It caught me off guard this month."

“Yes. I read. And I was thinking about bringing over some sushi? Maybe?”

“Mm.” His tongue clicked. “I don't eat during a shed. Not until my eyeballs peel off. You sure your stomach can handle it? It’s like a shitty sunburn, even on the bottoms of my feet.”

The thought of it was gross, a bit nauseating, but he should help his best friend. His partner in crime. The love of his life. That thought made him shake his head and return to the conversation at hand.

“Yes. You shouldn't have to be alone during this. And I haven't been over to your flat in ages.”

“Alright then. Come over. I’ll be in bed. Cant see much. But I’ll leave the door unlocked. Bye now.”

Crowley hung up first, as expected, indicated by the click on the other end. Aziraphale should pack a bag, especially if he was going to stay the night.

—

Crowleys flat was absolutely wrecked, good heavens. The second Aziraphale walked into the apartment he was positively shocked. There were newspapers littered around, plant misters leaking everywhere on the coffee tables and dripping onto the floor, creating puddles wherever he walked. The plants were still, however, lush and full. The demon always loved house full of plants, and god knew he created practically a conservatory in there.

He took it upon himself to grab one of the towels hanging from the oven, just to the right of the foyer, to place under the table with the biggest puddle, picking up the spray bottles and turning them right side up. There was rustling from the bedroom, Crowley stepping out, looking even more of a wreck than the apartment, somehow.

His hair was flat, bangs falling into his face, and gosh they weren't lying about the milky eyes. They looked like glass marbles seated in his head, with just the barest hint of a pupil underneath. It was the first time Aziraphale had seen his skin, as well. The robe that Crowley was wearing exposed his legs, arms and chest. He had the urge to look away, it was almost too intimate. He didn’t, however, instead drinking in the sight like it was the last bottle of wine in his storage. The skin was muddled, worn, and had seen so many terrible things. Thinking about Crowley falling into the pit of sulphur, burning alive and still making it through to exist in front of him was nothing short of an absolute miracle. Aziraphale was blessed every day that he was able to co-exist with the demon.

“Hey, Zira. Welcome to, well,” Crowley gestured at himself. “Everything.” 

“Hello, Crowley. Glad to see you're still alive. Not that I thought you were dead, or-or anything.”

Crowley laughed and wrapped his robe tighter so that it was covering his chest. He stepped around Aziraphale, heading into the kitchen to pop a cup into his Keurig.

“Do you want a coffee? It’s all that I can stomach right now. Feel like a pregnant human.”

Upon closer inspection, the angel could see the skin flaking off of Crowleys legs, the faint sheen of pseudo-scales under the layers of flesh. Where the excess had peeled off was bright pink, almost like fresh salmon. So raw, the angel wondered how he brushed up against anything. But, the robe was silk, and he was fairly certain the sheets the demon had were as well. Maybe Crowley wasn't as bourgeoisie as he thought. Maybe his life was designed around comfort for his bi-yearly sheds.

“Coffee would be lovely, dear, thank you. I’m having sushi delivered soon. I’ll eat it for myself, then.”

The grumble he got in response was enough to make his heart sing.

—

Coexisting with Crowley was easy. The last twelve hours were the easiest thing that Aziraphale had done in his life, besides selling books. They drank coffee, wine occasionally when his partner could stomach it. The food that Aziraphale had ordered when he first arrived was inhaled by the angel, one small piece of yellowtail going to his snake friend after much protest.

However, the last thirty minutes were horrendous. They eye caps were coming off.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, angel, just rip it off. Please, for heavens sake grab the fucking tweezers and fucking rip this off.”

Crowley had been yelling at him for the last thirty or odd minutes about his eyes. He was splayed across the couch, sunglasses half on his face, one lens hanging by his cheek. The same side where the eye-cap was peeling off. Visually, it was like a contact being lost in your eye. He could see the snake pupil underneath, but there was a circle of white clouding half of it. Crude in a way, but still natural in a sense.

“No, Crowley. The book said that if an eye cap gets stuck then we should do a hot compress. After that, it said maybe use tape. So right now, hot compress. It will help with the skin. Do you have any essential oils?”

Crowley groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no. Don't worry, I brought some. Into the bath. Now. It’ll help with your skin.”

The demon grumbled as he stood, hissing when Aziraphale tried to touch him, and limped into the bathroom. The skin from the bottom of his feet was peeling, same as when the angel arrived, fresh cells underneath were raw and not calloused how feet should be, especially when walking across concrete floors. Aziraphale grabbed the small box of oils from his bag that usually sat next to his diffuser, quietly following him into the bathroom.

His vanity and bath were simple, in the way that every part of Crowleys apartment was simple. Very extravagant and lush, but with no personal touches. The shower was empty, a single bar of soap in the holder, but Crowley had collapsed in it anyhow. A single black towel hung from the rack on the door, a matching black washcloth on the faucet of the tub. Aziraphale could tell he was exhausted, simply by how the man was sitting. Socks and briefs were still on, the other clothes and sunglasses strewn across the floor, and his arms were splayed out over the edges of the bathtub. His head was resting against his left shoulder, eyes closed, and breathing labored. 

The angel pushed his legs out of the way, turning the water knobs until the temperature was just right against the skin of his inner wrist. Once that temperature was found, he pulled the knob to fill the bathtub, unscrewing the peppermint oil afterwards to drip into the spout while it flowed. Crowley let out a half moan when the water reached his hips, sinking into it until his chin hit the water. 

“Thanks to you, Zira. I’ve never had anyone come over during this, I quite like it.” The demons hair was starting to curl from the humidity, it made Aziraphales heart flutter.

“You’re welcome. I can be here for you whenever you need. Shedding, or just if you want some food. I’ll— I can be here for you.”

“You mean that?” He was playing with the water now. “No one has ever been there. I learned this by myself. I should've picked up a book like you. Fuck, this smells great.”

Aziraphale smiled and dipped the washcloth from the faucet into the water, wringing it out before placing it over his eyes.

“Just sit quietly for a moment. Let the heat consume and help your eyes. Let you see clearly, luck and love be with you and your heart,”

“Fuck off.”

He sat quietly anyways. 

—

The cap on the left eye had come off a few moments later, Aziraphale pulling it out with the tweezers that Crowley had begged him to use beforehand. Most of the skin had come off as well, making Zira to gag while he cleared the tub drain after the demon had left to roll into his sheets. It was, frankly, disgusting. Thinking of Crowley going through this for thousands of years made his skin crawl, especially if he had never read a book about snakes, or even shedding. 

The drain was clear, with no effort spared from Aziraphale, and he stepped into the bedroom to check on his partner. Currently, he was rolled up like a croissant, tightly bound, only his feet sticking out. Seeing him in such a state made his heart hurt, yet still sing at the same time. He was the first person to witness a shed, the first person so see Crowleys skin so soft, pink, and new. Fresh, getting used to the world, and so tender. The angel crawled in next to him, well, next to the Crowley shaped lump, and brushed the single lock of red hair sticking out.

“You should grow your hair back out. Like at the Arc. The long curls were my favorite. The way they framed your face was absolutely exquisite.”

A few minutes until Crowley responded, peeking his face out of the black sheets. The other eye had shed while Aziraphale was in the bathroom cleaning, apparently. The new eye was lighter than the other by just a shade, a green ring was solid around the pupil, like a true snake.

“You think so? I was thinking the same thing. i liked being able to braid it up. Never a fan of it being short, just convenience, I guess.”

Crowley pushed up against his partners hand, eyes falling shut while he breathed in the angels cologne. 

“It’s nice. I like the long hair. It looks good.”

“Thanks. Be an angel, grab the lotion right on that nightstand for me. I’m aching.”

It was a white bottle with the label peeled off, but adhesive still stuck on. There was black lint covering it, and it made Aziraphale think how many times Crowley had slept with the lotion next to him. Applying it religiously, falling back asleep right after. He didn't know how much more he could handle, thinking about the sheds before this. But it was alright. He was here now. To help. 

“Would you like me to apply it?”

“God, Satan, be my fucking guest.”

Crowley whipped the sheets off, revealing a very naked, very new man. Aziraphale thought he had seen the pink skin before, but this was a whole new human. Like a fresh born baby. The freckles that the demon always had were there, but faint, like someone had gone over them with a light powder to blur them ever so slightly. The lotion pumped easily, the bottle was well used, obviously, and Zira rubbed it between his hands to warm.

“You’re sure?”

“Ye-ep. Just do it.”

And he did. Rubbing the lotion up the left calf, then the right, up to the thighs and reveling in the feel of the new skin underneath. Zira wasn't quite sure when Crowley had taken the briefs off, but the tender flesh of his inner thigh was so beautiful he was thankful for the opportunity to see it. The discrepancies, the lumps and scarring, so gorgeous. He was so thankful, in fact, that he rest his head against Crowleys inner thigh, just to take in the smell and shape of him. It elicited a small groan from the other being, enough for Aziraphale to hear. Hearing it almost shocked him awake, looking up at the demon, catching a glimpse of the half erect thing in his line of sight.

“Crowley.”

“Angel.”

The ‘angel’ did him in, taking his hand that had the most lotion left on it to rub in the crease of the others thigh. He knew he didn't have to do this, he knew that, but God, he wanted to so badly. So badly in fact, that his shaky hand found his way to Crowleys dick. They both gasped at the same time, Crowley with pleasure, Aziraphale with surprise. This wasn't how this was supposed to turn out. Aziraphale was here to care for his friend, his best friend, his lover. Fuck. He was fucked.

It wasn't long until one of Crowleys hands found his way to his hair, pulling his face up to press against the base of his member. 

“Zira-Zira you should know your hair looks like cotton candy. Tufted up and— fuck keep it like that,— curled and crazy and I fucking love you.”

“You love me?” Aziraphale hand stilled, just for a moment, while Crowley sat up.

“Satan, yes I love you. Fuck. We’ve been working together for six thousand years and I've been in love with you for five thousand nine hundred and ninety nine of them. My life had been dedicated to you. At this point I don't know what god or demon I was ever serving, because my life has been fucking devoted to you. Do you know that?”

“I didn’t.” The angel inhaled shakily, resuming his pumps on the demon. “I didn't know that at all. I-I never knew that. And you invited me over and I wanted total care of you and I wanted you to feel like you had someone. You've been suffering for so many years, Crowley, and I never knew. I didn't know. I didn't know.”

Crowley shot up, slapping the angels hand away and grabbing his face.

“I’m about to go into a monologue. Are you ready, angel? Because I don't know if you are. I probably wont take a breath the entire time. You okay with that?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Okay. Aziraphale. Zira. Angel. I’ve never told anyone about this because no one in my life has never been worth it to tell. All that I've done is work my ass off for people who never deserved it, and you’re the one person who actually needs it. You work every day, and still find the time to come over here and take care of me. You let me exist with you in a very fucking vulnerable way. I look like a piece of ham right now, and you still love me!”

Crowley took a pause to laugh then, looking down at Aziraphale, who was smiling up at him like Crowley was the gift of life.

“Aziraphale. If I had to fall into another pit of sulphur just to be with you, I would. I would bathe in holy water, stay a night in a church, breathe in the incense of the actual Vatican, just if I had the chance to be an angel again to spend my life with you. Do you know that? Because I don't think you do.”

The statement left Aziraphale breathless, gazing up into the snake eyes that were his partners. They were flecked with blue. Fresh, virgin, along the lines of a freshly made angel. It made Aziraphale quiver, stay silent, and take the head of Crowley into his mouth. The demon kept his hands on his angels face, mumbling swear words as he grabbed the tendrils of white hair that were recently revealed to him. All that Aziraphale could think about was the pink skin, the fresh smell of peppermint that cloaked him, and how lucky he was. How so fucking lucky he was to be here. To live and co-habitate with Crowley, and to drink in the demons presence around him.

He pushed back farther, the head of Crowleys dick hitting the back of his throat and making him gag. Well, that was something that would never change, angel or not. Aziraphale pushed back and the grip on his hair loosened, content to just hold and feel the love that was being freely given. 

“Oh-Oh, fuck. Zira.”

That was the single warning that was given before Crowley came into his mouth, besides the hand tightening in his curls. It tasted exactly like coffee, something that at first was nice, but at second thought was absolutely disgusting. Despite that, he swallowed carefully. taking the kerchief from his breast pocket to dab at his mouth.

Crowley, on the other hand, had melted into his bed, his skin an almost neon red now.

“Crowley?”

“Angel.” Still, he sounded so put together, so perfect.

“I love you, as well. So many times I thought we would die together, and so many times we have made it through. We have co-habitated, like you said, for so long and now here we are.” The angel laughed. “Still here. And so vulnerable. Soft and tender in physical and emotional sense. You're my partner. My demon.”

“I guess. I don't think I deserve it. But sometimes, my dear, it just be like that., and we have to anticipate even when we think we cant. Come to bed” Crowley rolled over in the bed, yanking the sheets over himself and lifting them enough so that Zira could crawl underneath. “I’ll return the favor in the morning. Maybe even let you fuck me.”

The angels face turned red, and he laughed uncomfortably and loud, but he removed his jacket and waistcoat anyways, carelessly tossing them to the side in a way that was so unlike him.

“You’re an angel.”

“And you're a fucking devil. Take your clothes off. Let me touch you.”

And he did. For so long, and for so many times over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my source for the snake stuff: http://www.worldofballpythons.com/python-regius/care-sheet/
> 
> thanks for reading! drop a comment and tell me to fix typos! validate me! love y'all. should i write more of the snake boy?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated rating! leave comments, leave criticisms. love you all. send me prompts.
> 
> not proof read, let me know about mistakes.

Crowley was staring into the vanity mirror in the bathroom, holding one eye open and looking into it, nose pressed to the glass. His eyes hadn't gone back to their usual yellow, how they normally did after the eye caps came off. Spots of blue were in the gold, a ring of lime green around the pupil. Maybe it had something to do with the miracle that Azirapahle had done with his eyes. Or maybe he was dying. Probably both, but something to work on later. He sauntered back into the bedroom and crawled on the bed, straddling Zira in the process.

“Do y’think that maybe stress caused this to come early?”

“Possibly. Unfortunately there aren't many books on snake demons, Crowley.” Aziraphale turned the page in the book he had started while Crowley was in the shower, barely sparing a glance up at the demon.

“Mm. Annoying. Maybe I could write the first one.”

“Dear, you don't read or write.”

“No help at all.” He flicked his wrist and opened one of the windows in the bedroom, pouting down at Zira. “You should know I’m still tender and peeling and I like attention.”

Another page was turned.

“You’ll get your attention when I finish this chapter. Go water your plants, I’ll make us some coffee when I’m done in a few minutes and we can re-track your shed date for the next months. Your body had a recent change, and it’s spring. You might start shedding more often.”

“Peaches and fucking cream.”

He did what he was told, though. Crawled off of Aziraphale and limped into the hallway where the majority of his ferns and trees were. Not much yelling went on, mostly just discontented mumbling. Shedding always exhausted him to his bones, making his mind groggy and movements slow. It also made him ravenously hungry, and really, really fucking lazy. In a few moments, Aziraphale followed through on his promise of coffee, Crowley could hear his Keurig brewing from the kitchen.

“There’s creamer in the fridge, angel!” There was unintelligible yelling back at him, he assumed it was about the creamer, and the angel stepped out carrying two mugs.

“I brought my mug from home, if you were wondering.” Zira took a drink from his aforementioned cup and wrapped an arm around Crowleys waist. “You know, I quite like your skin. Its worn well.”

“It’s the only one that I've got. But… Thanks. I appreciate it.” He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead, taking the mug from his hands and drinking.

“No-No I mean it. What you said last night? A monologue with no breath taken? Think I might start one.”

Crowley snorted and took another drink, bumping their hips together.

“Well I think that I’m probably in love with you too. For five thousand nine hundred and ninety years. I was thinking yesterday how much you've been through, how much your skin tells the story, and how blessed I am to be able to exist with you in the same moments in time. Every second I spend in the same room as you, in the same world even, is miraculous.”

Silence hung between them, and when Aziraphale looked up, there was blood dripping from Crowleys eyes.

“Oh! Oh my lord, Crowley? Crowley you're bleeding.What happened?”

“Its nothing, angel. Just how I cry.” He wiped at his eyes, the blood dripping in between his fingers. “I just didn't know you felt like that. I thought you were over me when you told me I go too fast. I’m sorry.”

Zira smiled fondly up at him, brushing his thumbs along the demons cheeks to wipe at them. “Crowley, you're a doll. Well, more like a macaron. You're crisp but inside you're soft, and you melt in my mouth. You're beautiful and nice and you take care of your friends. Your biggest crime is glueing coins to the sidewalk.”

“Your biggest crime is making me fall for you from heaven.”

“That was awful.”

“I know.”

Crowley pushed his face into the angels neck and inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around the others neck to pull into his chest.

“You’re the reason my corporeal form still exists. Don't know how I would've made it without you in my life.”

“What would you say to some lunch?”

The thought was nice, in theory, but it made Crowley feel weak. Stepping out of the apartment a day after the major shed, that is. Skin was still peeling from his arms and chest, the whole state of mind was very fragile at the moment.

“Only if we order in. The thought of being outside makes me want to vomit.”

“I can run out and get some. Go take another bath. Don't fight me— I know you just showered. Theres still skin coming off of you.” Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie and brushed his hands down his chest. “I left the oils next to the tub. I’m sure you can draw a bath for yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

—

The bath was a good idea, and the oils that Zira had left for him made it even better. Peppermint oil was some sort of a miracle drug, Crowley supposed, as he sunk into the scalding hot water. Maybe the angel had more good ideas about skincare, especially for when he was peeling. A majority of the older skin was gone, thanks to the first bath last night, and the lotion helped too. He should probably buy some more of that stuff soon, especially if Zira was right about the shedding coming more often.

Aziraphale. Probably out debating on what restaurant to bring home, what drinks. Every detail had to be perfect for him all the time, nothing was ever out of place. Crowley trailed his fingers through the water, splaying his legs out of the side of the bathtub like always. The angel had sucked his dick last night. Holy shit. Things were happening so fast and his head hadn't stopped spinning since his eyes were fixed. And then he shed. And Zira had come over and helped him, ending the night with Crowley cumming into his mouth and playing little spoon to the angel. 

“Fuck, angel. What are you doing to me.”

Crowley rested his head on the back of the bathtub, splashing water up into his face and sighing. Life was completely different now, he didn't know how much he could adjust to in such a short amount of time.

—

By the time Aziraphale had returned, Crowley had dozed off, and the water gone cold. The sound of the door slamming shut behind the angel woke him, and he shot out of the bath, cursing under his breath about the temperature. Aziraphale could hear the ruckus coming from the bathroom and smiled while he unpacked the bags of food, placing the cardboard takeout boxes on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Crowley stumbled out minutes later, wrapped in his silk robe, and collapsed onto the couch. His skin was more pruned than normal, more flushed as well. Zira scooted one of the boxes towards him, taking his own place next to the demon. Instantaneously, Crowley rocked over to lean against the angel, pressing his face into the armpit of his suit.

“Smoked salmon salad, Crowley. Protein for you and leafy greens for your iron. Theres some soup as well, in case you cant stomach solid food yet.” Aziraphale opened his own box, resting it on his knees to eat from.

“I’m not hungry anymore. Not right now.” The vibration of his voice went straight through the angel. It gave Aziraphale chills, and the vibrations made him giggle while he ate.

“You should still eat though, darling. You haven't had food for days and you need to keep your strength up.” Another bite. “Hows the skin?”

“Y’know? Not bad. You were right about the baths. Most of it came off yesterday. Just my stomach and stuff now.” Crowley parted the robe to look down at his abdomen, where the skin was peeling off from every direction. “Pretty gross, though, huh. Kinda pissed this always happens.”

“Whats that phrase you said to me once? Thats just how it is on this bitch of an earth?”

The demon barked out a laugh and pulled Aziraphale in closer, grinning into his jacket.

“Thats the one, angel!”

—

Another shed happened two months later, much to both of their dismay. It sent Crowley into a fit, screaming at the plants, kicking trashcans over wherever they were, and breaking almost every pair of sunglasses that Aziraphale handed him when they went out. On the bright side, his plants were more lush than ever, and Zira was always there to snap his fingers and clean up the messes that were left behind. 

The angel was coping in another way, moving most of his clothes into Crowleys flat, bringing over new books every week, and buying a handful of different types of sheets for Crowley to try against the tender skin of the shed. He had gone out grocery shopping, stocking the mostly unused fridge in the demons flat with more groceries than just the coffee creamer that was usually left in there. 

There was another shed a few weeks later. That sent Crowley into a depression spiral, crying and dripping blood everywhere, moping around the apartment to the point where Aziraphale had to miracle some of his plants back to life. Still— They were together. No matter how much Crowley brushed him off, Zira still stuck by his side. Through thick and thin, he stayed by him. Every single one of his pocket squares were stained a deep red, Crowley had gone through all of his pairs of pajamas, and they were out of essential oils. 

By the end of the two unexpected sheds, Aziraphale was shocked by how much it had impacted Crowley. His skin was so pale it was almost see through, eyes were bloodshot, and anything he brushed against made him gasp or cry out in pain. Most of the time they spent together over the last month was through Aziraphale spoon feeding him bone broth, or wiping down his skin with hot towels in the bed. None of the books that Zira read mentioned anything about so many sheds in such a short amount of time, not unless it was a fresh born snake, but one single chapter in an earlier book did mention stress impacting a snakes heath dramatically. There wasn't anything that could be stressing the demon out that much though, right?

Currently, Crowley was curled up in the middle of his bed. The blankets were strewn around him, a pillow was slammed over his head. The sight made the angels heart absolutely ache, he looked so incredibly small under the sheets, and somehow it looked like he had lost weight. Aziraphale knew that was impossible, neither of their bodies changed much, but his skin was practically hanging off of his bones and his hair was ragged.

Upon closer inspection, Crowleys knees were drawn up to his chest, face buried in them.

“Crowley? Dear?” No response came from the other, he just simply rolled over and lifted the sheet. “Hold on.”

Aziraphale toed off his shoes, and carefully stripped down, laying each item of clothing across the empty nightstand before crawling in next to his partner.

“Angel.” 

“Darling, I’m worried. You're getting stressed and your body can’t keep up with it. I-I believe that spending a shed with someone, me, is causing it. And now you're reacting to sharing that safe space with someone.” He stroked down Crowley’s stubbled cheek. “Your body is recreating that scenario over and over. Because you're scared.”

“Thats not it, angel. I’m stressed and I don't deserve you, and now you've seen me at my lowest point. Don't think I can come back from that.” Dried blood was cracking on his cheeks.

“Love, no. No. That was miraculous. You let me in. Now let me let you in. Rest easy knowing that you're safe whenever you're around me. You always have been. I’ve always been safe with you. I can return the favor.”

“Oh… Angel.”

Crowley simply shoved his face into Aziraphales neck, falling asleep almost instantly and resting for the first time in weeks.

—

The next morning there was color back in Crowleys cheeks, and he gave into Aziraphales demands to eat. It was a weight lifted from both of their shoulders, the first meal they shared together in weeks. Crowley scarfed down his food, chasing the remains of the meal by finishing his second mug of coffee. Simply seeing him eat was enough to have Aziraphale smiling the entire time, picking at the last of his breakfast himself. The demon stood and grabbed their mugs, stepping over to the coffee maker to brew more cups.

“So you think I should grow my mop out?” 

“I did like your longer hair, very much.”

“Hm.”

When his white mug was returned and Crowley sat back across the table from him, said mop had grown to his shoulders, the curls framing his face. It left the angel just slightly breathless.

“Yes. Like that. Absolutely spectacular.”

“Shut up.” Crowley snapped his fingers, a hair tie appearing in them, and tied the front pieces back into a ponytail, returning to his coffee after. “I should do laundry. I ordered you some more handkerchiefs, too. From that tailor you like.”

“Oh, but I could've just fixed the other ones easily. Not really that hard.”

“Yeah. I’m just making an effort.”

Comfortable silent settled between them, Aziraphale staring intensely over at the demon while he ate. His eyes had almost gone back to normal, just barely pink in the whites, and after the meal his skin was looking less like frosted glass. It seems that he had just needed a small pep talk to feel better about the situation. 

“You should come over to the book shop tonight. We can watch your favorite cooking shows.” Aziraphale stood and collected the plates. “And I should re-open. Haven't been there in days. Who knows whats happened.”

“Probably not much. Guarantee that none of the authors you have in there have published anything new. But that's fine. I can bring over dinner, you've done it too much lately. And wine. Lots of it.”

“Hah. Alright. I have a few good bottles of a delicious Zind-Humbrecht Pinot at the shop. Bring something light so it'll pair well.”

—

Getting out of the house for once was nice, being in his car was even better. Driving to see Aziraphale was nice too, especially when he had a passenger seat filled with Indian food and a bottle of red wine. He had caught a glimpse of himself in the window of the restaurant and grimaced, stepping into the bathroom for a moment to gently apply foundation that he definitely didn't keep in his glovebox.

The bookstore was always unlocked for him, he never had to miracle it open, the second his foot hit the front stoop the door clicked open. It had to have some sort of recognition for his presence when he stepped up, but it was comforting to know that he always had a place to come.

Aziraphale was upstairs, the scent of his cologne was hanging above his head, so he started up the stairs to the mans flat. Fucks sake, three flights of stairs to get up to the angels apartment was torture, nevertheless, he made it up, bursting through the door to hand the bags of food off to Aziraphale and collapse on the floor.

“Angel. Miracle me an elevator next time you redo the shop. I’m sick of this.”

“Well you could always just miracle yourself up here. Save the trip up the steps.” The angel took the bags from him carefully, unpacking them like always, and divvying the spoils between their two respective seats. There was wine already waiting on the table in front of the television, and with a wave their glasses filled. Crowley crawled from the floor over to the couch, stripping off his jacket in the process.

“Hey angel, do you, by chance, have any shorts? My legs are killing me and its blazing hot up here.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him and handed over a pair of silk lounge shorts. The demon took it gratefully and swapped his jeans out for them, splaying his legs out over the cushions. He balanced one of the boxes of food on his chest, patting the spot next him with his foot.

“I’m coming, darling. Hold on.” His own jacket was shed and folded carefully on the back of the couch. After, he joined the other on the couch, pulling his partners legs onto his lap and passing the remote over to him.

“Thanks, angel.”

—

Six hours of drinking wine and cooking shows later, Crowley was curled up in Aziraphale chest, one of the angels hands absentmindedly stroking down his thigh, the other tangled in his longer hair. His face was pressed into the demons hair, breathing in his natural scent and sighing every few minutes. It smelled like fresh cut grass, potting soil, just a tiny bit of a floral undertone. It smelled like Crowley. Comforting.

Everything about him was comforting. The red hair growing from his tattered skin, the way he was comfortable wearing shorts around him, how the second that Aziraphale said he liked his longer hair, he changed it. Zira always thought he was the soft one, but Crowley was like a bowl of fresh whipped cream.

“Crowley.” Fuck, his words were slurred. “Darling boy?”

“Mmhm.” He stirred slighting when his name was called.

“Crowley I think you should kiss me.”

The demon barked out a laugh at that, shakily rolling over on the couch to straddle him. Both of their cheeks were flushed from the wine, but Crowleys face was beet red. Seeing it was comforting, another thing to write down on the list of how Crowley made him warm inside. He reached up and cupped his cheeks, red hair spilling in between his fingers, and pulled his face down to press their lips together.

Crowley moaned and threw his arms around Aziraphale's neck, collapsing into his chest. His lips parted easily, their tongues sliding together like they were meant to be tangled forever. The angel slid his hands up his thighs, fingering the ends of the silk shorts and tugging them down just slightly.

“A-Angel. Love. Darlin’. Bedroom.”

Aziraphale scooped him him from the bottom, holding him tightly against his chest and quickly, efficiently really, strolled into the bedroom to drop him on the bed. Crowley squeaked when he was dropped, melting ZIra’s heart in the process, and crawled back onto the bed. The angel crawled over him, reconnecting their lips and yanking the silk shorts he had given the other man off. Every patch of skin underneath his hands told a story, even the parts peeling off, and every second of feeling it made more desire build within the angel.

His skins flushed, and Crowley was looking up at him like he was the last drop of water in an oasis. Seeing it made Zira weak, practically collapsing back into the demon, slamming their lips together. Everything was perfect. Six thousand years had been leading up to this moment for the both of them, every second was something to be cherished.

Eventually, Aziraphale wrapped a hand around Crowleys dick, pumping slowly and gasping every time that it twitched in his hands. Crowley had all but melted into the bed, gasping and moaning, thrusting up into the angels hand with every stroke, hips shaking.

“Zira— Please, Zira, to whatever god there is, please fuck me.”

“Patience.” Aziraphale rubbed his pointer finger on the others lips, pressing in when his mouth gave slightly. “It is a virtue.”

Those words made Crowley commit to sucking on the finger in his mouth, wrapping both sides of his tongue around it, flicking around the fingernail with both sides, really making a meal out of it for his partner. Apparently it did the trick, Zira pulling the finger out just seconds later and roughly pressing it into him.

“Crowley. You're so beautiful. You're so good to me, you know exactly what to do to make me feel good.” The moan from the other man just egged him on, Zira moaning with each twist and turn inside of him. “You’re such a good boy, My darling boy.”

Noises falling from the demons lips were unintelligible, everything had rescued him to soft moans and twitches, his hands clawing at the sheets and ripping the corners up. It was too much for Aziraphale to handle, he thought, unbuttoning his trousers as quickly as he possibly could with a writhing man desperate for attention beneath him. A miracle was sure to happen if he simply just lined up and pressed himself in, but there was no guarantee, so he pressed his hand into his partners stomach, suggesting to his body to let him in. 

The give was easy, an almost shriek coming from Crowley when Aziraphale was fully seated inside of him. His back arched beneath him, red curls splaying out onto the white sheets and almost mimicking the wine stain from their first night together. 

“Fuck! Fuck angel… Oh god, ‘m sorry I didn't know this would end like this.”

“Darling, hush. Hush. Let me take care of you, Just enjoy it. You're such a good boy and you deserve this.’

Aziraphale had figure out early on that Crowley had a love for praise, Anything he did that received some positive enforcement made the demons spine tickle, Zira could see goosebumps whenever anything warranted praise.

The silence gave way to Aziraphale thrusting shallowly into him. He hadn't done this in years, not since the gentlemen’s club, and he was almost positive that Crowley had never had penetration before. It was beautiful. Small moans and gasps being ripped from the redheads throat, body moving and contorting in so many unimaginable ways. Zira planted his hands on the others knees, pushing them up to his chest so he could drive deeper. He twisted his hips upwards, almost instantly hitting the spot he was driving for. 

Crowley cried out instantly, and on the second thrust spilled between them. Feeling his walls clamp around his dick made Aziraphale gasp, thrust once more, and release into his partner. They stilled for a moment, Crowley wiping sweat from his brow and gasping for air like it was the breath life. Perspiration was dripping down Zira’s chest, so he pulled out (to the dismay of both of them), and quickly stripped himself bare. The clothes were thrown onto the ground haphazardly, so unlike the angel, and fell into bed next to his lover.

“Darling.”

“Mm?”

“You're the love of my life. The next time will be better.”

“Next time?” Crowley rolled over, tucking his head into Aziraphale’s armpit, his favorite place to be. “Angel, this was perfect. I love you.”

“I love you, too. To Alpha Centauri and back.”

Everything was right in the world in that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> should i add a second part based on the shedding? maybe aziraphales POV????


End file.
